


It’s Pronounced Quiche

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Fluff, I do not apologise for the title, Lazy Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quickies, Shameless Smut, There is no quiche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 01:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20301466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Aziraphale startles Crowley by tugging up his shirt, stroking his fingers down his belly and resting them on his belt buckle.“May I?” Aziraphale asks, and Crowley’s breath hitches. Tonight has taken an unexpected turn, but it’s definitely not unwelcome.





	It’s Pronounced Quiche

Being retired definitely has its perks. Crowley’s favourite perk is the decreased risk of Above and Below raining holy water and hellfire down on them, but he’s enjoying the free time too. Not that he and Aziraphale were ever what you might call hard workers, but now they have more time for the important things, like cuddling on the sofa watching TV. 

Crowley’s always been a fan of period dramas. He likes the costumes and is always amused by how badly the writers screw up what life was like at any given time. Aziraphale enjoys ones that are well told, and sighs wistfully when the costumes are especially well done. 

While _The Tudors_ may not always be especially strong in the story department, the costumes are nice and the historical accuracy - or lack thereof - is always worth a laugh. It’s a bit trashy but everyone’s pretty and it’s entertaining, which is good enough for Crowley. Aziraphale is usually more snooty about it but he’s being unusually quiet tonight, and has barely said a word through the exaggerated political intrigue. Now the story has turned - as it so often does - to one very attractive actor throwing another very attractive actor onto a bed.

Crowley, lying against Aziraphale with his back against his angel’s chest, is about to make a comment about how they got _that_ bit right at least - the Tudors were a horny lot - when Aziraphale startles Crowley by tugging up his shirt, stroking his fingers down his belly and resting them on his belt buckle. 

“May I?” Aziraphale asks, and Crowley’s breath hitches. Tonight has taken an unexpected turn, but it’s definitely not unwelcome.

“Got you in the mood, has it?” He asks, aiming for jovial but he just sounds breathless.

“You had an outfit like that,” Aziraphale says, gesturing at the screen with his spare hand, though the outfit is now on the floor of Henry Tudor’s bedroom. “I remember seeing you in it and - I think that might have been the first time I knew I wanted you.”

“Bloody hell, angel.” The thought of Aziraphale lusting after him so long ago is a lot to deal with, especially with a hand almost down his pants.

“I didn’t know what to do with myself. I certainly wouldn’t have known what to do with _you.”_ He pauses and kisses the top of Crowley’s head. “I do now, though.”

“Yeah. You- you do.”

“So – may I?”

Crowley bites his lip, and makes an Effort. “Yeah. You may.”

He feels Aziraphale make an Effort, too, a cock that gets hard against his back within the few seconds it takes to unbuckle Crowley’s belt and undo his fly. Not that Crowley can complain; he’s already wet and aching for it, and by the time Azirpahale’s eager fingers press inside him he’s moaning. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, blindly reaching one hand behind him to grab at Aziraphale’s shoulder, then crying out as his angel rubs a thumb against his clit, sensation spiking. “You bastard,” he gasps, and groans as Aziraphale circles his thumb with the perfect pressure. 

“Shall I stop?” He asks, amused.

“Never, don’t you dare.”

Aziraphale chuckles and then repositions them so that they can kiss as he brings Crowley to what promises to be the first climax of many. 

Crowley shivers against him as the pleasure ebbs, and tries to move, to get into a position where he can return the favour, but when Aziraphale murmurs,_Let me, love_, who is Crowley to argue?

Aziraphale brings him off again, and _again_, until Crowley is a shuddering mess and both his underwear and his trousers are soaked. 

“Fuck this,” Crowley says in an unsteady voice, and turns in Aziraphale’s arms to kiss him properly. He gets rid of his own clothes with a click of his fingers but he knows Aziraphale would get tetchy if he did the same to his. But he doesn’t mind doing it by hand; it’ll give him a chance to stop shaking. 

Licking his lips, his gaze sweeps over Aziraphale, from his fussy outfit to his pleased expression - though to be fair, making Crowley come three times in seven minutes is worthy of a little pride. In truth Crowley loves Aziraphale’s clothes, outdated and worn though they may be. They suit him, and he’s had them so long that Crowley struggles to imagine him in anything else. He _doesn’t_ love what a pain they are to get off. 

First comes the blazer, the soft jersey one he wears while pottering around the bookshop, or, apparently, for initiating quickies on the sofa. That’s easy enough. The waistcoat is a bit of a faff but the buttons come undone easily. The bow tie is easy too, but the shirt is a pain: it’s new and the buttons are stiff. Crowley swears under his breath, impatient to have his angel naked, but he only manages half the buttons before he gets distracted by all the lovely skin on show, roaming over it with fingers and mouth. He especially loves the noises Aziraphale makes when he lavishes attention on his nipples, the way it makes him grab a handful of Crowley’s hair and tug. 

Lifting his head, Crowley grins at him and undoes Aziraphale’s trousers, but he doesn’t bother pulling them off. Instead he straddles him and positions himself so that the head of Aziraphale’s generous cock is pressed against his slick lips. Crowley bites his lip. There’s never been anything so tempting, and he should know. 

“You want this, angel?” He asks, breathless, desperate, thighs shaking already.

“Yes,” Aziraphale says, with feeling, and both of them moan as Crowley lowers himself.

Damn but that feels good, it always feels so fucking _good_ with Aziraphale, whatever their form, whatever their Effort. 

Aziraphale pulls him down so they can kiss as they fuck, and that feels even better, pleasure rising in him swift and relentless and he comes again, tightening around Aziraphale’s cock.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale says helplessly, continuing to fuck him as he tries and fails to catch his breath, the next orgasm already threatening to overtake him. 

“Angel,” Crowley gasps, kissing him, pressing his hips down to meet Aziraphale’s increasingly erratic thrusts. “Angel, I love you, I love you so fucking much-“

And that’s enough, as Crowley suspected it would be. Aziraphale’s hands tighten on his hips as he comes inside him, crying out his name, head thrown back. Biting his lip, Crowley slides a hand down to his clit and brings himself off one last time to the glorious sight of his angel undone. Aziraphale groans as Crowley tightens around his softening cock, pleasure spilling through them both as he collapses onto Aziraphale. 

Together they catch their breath and then kiss, languid and sweet, and Crowley thinks _I really do love you_, feeling it with a depth and breadth that always takes him by surprise. 

“I love you, darling,” Aziraphale says, one hand petting Crowley’s hair, the other resting at the small of his back, thumb stroking the sensitive patch of black scales there. 

“You better,” Crowley says and rests his head on Aziraphale’s chest, looking over to the television to where Henry Tudor is now fully clothed and looking broody. “I don’t put out for just anyone, you know.”

“Only me.”

“Only you,” Crowley says, smiling. 

They both know he’s talking about so much more than just sex.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never watched The Tudors but googling “period drama with lots of sex scenes” suggested it was a good one to use.
> 
> This was based on a dream I had the other day. Since most of my fics for this fandom (and lbr all fandoms) are way too involved, it was nice to write something short and fun!


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